


Peace At Last

by Woodentrain



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Accidental Eavesdropping, Anchise doesn't know, Annella knows, Happy Ending, Loud Sex, M/M, Samuel knows, Samuel's POV - Freeform, Short & Sweet, everyone is sleepless, mafalda knows, silly in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodentrain/pseuds/Woodentrain
Summary: The hour was late and Professor Perlman was tired. But he could not sleep - however he tried and wherever he tried.Thud, thud went the headboard in another room.Moan, moan, went the voices down the hall.Would he never get to sleep?





	1. Day 1- a slammed door

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been playing around with something a bit different from my usual fare- this was going to be a one-shot but it’s now a story with 12 short (very short, actually- about 500 words each) chapters, to be posted daily. And it will actually, honestly be posted daily, because I have found some restraint and actually finished it already. It just needs reading through and posting each day.
> 
> I’ve stolen the title and blurb/summary (well, sort of) from Jill Murphy’s classic children’s book about the Bear family. It feels sacriligeous but I’ve done it anyway. Sorry!

A slammed door is supposed to be an ending, but in this story it’s the start- or, at least, sort of the start. 

The real start was weeks before.  My wife knew long before I did, because women have a way with such things.  Just a few days after he arrived, she sighed at me as we sat in bed, reading, before turning out the lights.

“Every time, Samuel.  Every year we have this.  Will there never be a peaceful summer in this house?”

I peered at her over my glasses.  “What do you mean?”

“Last year it was Pavel, the anti-Semite.  What a hideous boy.  I shudder at the very thought of him.  And the year before it was that younger boy, the undergraduate… what was his name?”

“Maynard?”

“Maynard!  Yes!  He was so quiet and polite, but he spent the whole summer following Elio around like a lovesick puppy.  And before that there was-“

I interrupted with sigh of my own, because this is not the first time we’d had such a conversation.  “Yes.  Of course.  But what’s wrong with Oliver?  He seems like a lovely young man.  A little shy, maybe, but he’s settling in well, I think.”

“You don’t see it?”

“See what?”

She laughed at my ignorance.  “The way Elio looks at him.  You really haven’t seen it?”

I shook my head.

“Well, let’s just say he’s never looked at anyone like this before.”

“You’re saying he- he what?  He has a crush on Oliver?”

“Something of the sort.”

“Oh.  Well, do you think we should do something?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything to be done.   Whatever it is, it will run its course.  And in six weeks Oliver will be gone, we’ll be packing up to go back to the city, and Elio will be rushing, as usual, to do his long-neglected summer homework before going back to school.”

I’d paid a little more attention to Elio after that and yes, there was… something.  But I agreed with Annella- whatever it was, best just let it run its course.  Whatever that might turn out to be.

Which brings us back to the slamming door.

On the night in questions Annella and I are both tipsy, and I fall asleep almost as I collapse into bed, only to be awoken shortly after by the slam of a door.

I roll over.  “Huh?  What was that?”  I croak.  I’m still half asleep.

Annella is a little more coherent.  “Probably the wind.  I think the doors to the balcony were left open.  Either that, or Elio skulking around the house angry about something Oliver has or hasn’t done, taking his rage out on the furniture.  Don’t worry about it.  Go back to sleep.”  She’s probably right.  Things have seemed tense between the two of them these past few days, ever since the day when Elio had a nosebleed during lunch.  Hopefully they can work things out. 

There’s a cool breeze tonight, and it rustles the leaves on the tree outside the window.  In my semi-conscious state I almost think I hear a laugh somewhere in the distance.  But Annella’s right- it’s probably just the wind. 

I’m happy to go back to sleep, and think no more of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr- [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	2. Day 2- an unusual morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel is happily oblivious.

The next morning my wife is behaving strangely.  My student is behaving even more strangely.  My son is behaving most strangely of all.  Elio is quite different to his usual breakfast self.  He’s always tactile, but this morning when he kisses Annella and I on the cheek it’s slow and heavy.  There’s a dark, brooding, almost sultry quality to him- not helped by the unnecessary addition of his biggest, blackest pair of sunglasses. 

Annella looks at me as though she wants to say something, but she doesn’t.   

Oliver leaves to go into town, at which point Elio looks… confused?  Concerned?  Whatever it is, he hurries through the rest of his breakfast, leaves his juice half drunk and disappears off on his bike, scarcely speaking a word the whole time.

“Oh.  Well.  That’s odd.  What was that all about?”  I ask Annella.

“Who knows?” she shrugs.

 _Well, you do, for one.  There’s something you’re not telling me._  But I’m not going to push her. Either she’ll tell me or she won’t- it’s a simple as that.  And if she doesn’t tell me then it’s probably not important. 

Summer is coming to an end and there’s work to be done before Oliver leaves, so I decide it’s best not to give it too much thought. 

When Oliver returns from his errands in town he grins at me and suggests we get back to work on cataloguing the rest of the slides we’d been working on yesterday.  He’s happy and eager today, quite unlike his quiet nervousness of the past few days.  In the afternoon we continue looking at a chapter of his book which has been causing him difficulties.  As always, I’m impressed by his thoughts and by the work he’s done on it since I last read this part.  But today he keeps looking at the door as though he’s waiting for someone.  And he’s restless, as though he really wants to be somewhere else.   After having him live with us for over a month, I feel that I know Oliver well enough to say that this is out of character for him.  Eventually I give up- I put him out of his misery by suggesting we finish this another day, and send him on his way.

It’s almost dinner time when I pass by Oliver’s bedroom door and hear low voices inside.  Someone laughs.  This has to be a good sign- I’m relieved that the hostility between him and Elio seems to have passed.  Hopefully things will be back to normal now, the last few days of his stay will be peaceful, and we can all relax and enjoy each other’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	3. Day 3- an egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel is no longer oblivious.

The strange behaviour continues.  This morning, Elio stands over Oliver and carefully cuts the top off his egg for him.  There’s an affection there which I haven’t noticed before.  Suddenly, Elio is looking after Oliver as though he’s his little brother.  When he repeats the act, meticulous again with a second egg, I find myself staring at him.  “Americans never know how to do it,” he explains.  Not that that’s a valid explanation, really.  Something is going on here and I can’t quite work out what it is.

After breakfast I look for Oliver all over the house, hoping that he’ll come and help me with the mountain of long-forgotten paperwork I’ve just unearthed in my study.  Mafalda shrugs when I ask about his whereabouts.  Annella looks at me, again, as though she knows something I don’t.  “He and Elio went out.”

“Oh.”  I sigh theatrically whilst cleaning my glasses on the hem of my shirt.  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to make a start on this on my own.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get it finished.” 

But Annella isn’t falling for it.  She knows me too well.  “Stop doing that, Samuel.  I’m not going to offer to help you.  It’s your own fault that you left this for so long.  Besides.  I’m tired.  I haven’t slept well the past night or two.  Now go and get on.  I’ll send Mafalda with more coffee when she’s finished with the breakfast things.”

The boys seem to be in good spirits when they return for lunch.  Smiling across the table, sharing jokes… they finally seem to have settled into a beautiful friendship and it’s just a shame it took them so long.  Annella gives me another one of her knowing looks, which I ignore.  It’s starting to get annoying, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of asking her about it.

That night I can’t sleep.  It’s warm and humid, and I’m just dropping off to sleep when a repetitive, banging noise cuts through the quiet of the night.  I roll over, trying to ignore it, but it won’t go away. 

Annella’s awake too.  I sit up and swing my legs out of bed.  “I’ve asked Anchise three times to fix that damned door.  I’ll just go out and see if I can do something to stop it from banging in the wind.”

“Samuel.  That’s not the balcony door.”

“What on earth is it, then?”

Annella fixes me with a stern look.  “Oh, love.  If you don’t know, then there’s no delicate way of putting this.  What other things can you think of that might be banging rhythmically in the night?”  I must looked puzzled because she continues.  “And I’ll give you a clue- it has nothing to do with the wind.  This is an entirely man-made phenomenon.”

 _Oh_.  “It’s… you mean… well, somehow Oliver didn’t seem like the type to bring people back to the house.  But I don’t have a problem with it, as long as he’s not going to keep us awake all night.  I suppose I’ll have to speak to him tomorrow.  Diplomatically.”

Annella doesn’t say anything.

“What, Annella?”  I’m getting very frustrated now.  “You keep looking at me as though there’s something I’m missing.   If you have something to say, just say it!”

But she doesn’t have to, because I’m wide awake now and can’t avoid the reality of the moan that echoes through the house.  It’s unmistakably the moan of someone having some sort of very pleasurable sexual experience.

It’s unmistakeably Elio. 

Then it’s abruptly cut off, as though someone realised how loud it was and clamped a hand over his mouth.  Or as though he’s biting his lip to silence himself.

“Oh. They’re- oh.  _Oh_.  God.  Really?  You're joking.  _Really_?"  I must look horrified- not at the fact that my son and my student are, apparently, sleeping together.  And really liking it.  No- horrified at the fact that I didn't see it until now.

Annella looks at me disbelievingly.  “You honestly didn’t know?”

“I- no!  Of course not?  You knew about this before tonight?  How long has this been going on?”

“Only a couple of nights, that I know of.”

“I- I don’t know what to say.  I mean- it had occurred to me, at times, that Elio might be interested in men.  And weeks ago you said that you thought he might have a crush on Oliver.  Or something.  But this- I just- how did I not notice this?”

“Oh, love.  I think they’re trying not to make it obvious.”

There’s another moan- or, to be accurate, it’s more of a whine, really- louder and higher this time, and the noise abruptly stops.

I exhale and look back at Annella.  “Well.  This is a lot to take in, but at least it sounds as though they’re done for tonight.”

Annella laughs.  “Done for tonight?  I doubt it.  They’re done for now, maybe.  But they’ll be ready for another round before long.”

I groan and bury my head under my pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	4. Day 4- a foolproof plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel and Annella take action to ensure they don't suffer another night's interrupted sleep.

I’m not in a good mood.  I don’t cope well with lack of sleep, and in addition I’m worried about Elio.  About what happens when this ends.  When Oliver goes home.  Because he will, in a week’s time, and presumably when he does so he’ll resume whatever life he lives back in New York.  There have been a few vague… well, allusions, for want of a better term, to the presence of a woman in his life- and I’m not talking about his mother or his sister.  I wonder if Elio knows.  There may not be anything _to_ know, really… it’s nothing concrete, more a suspicion I have which Oliver hasn’t refuted.  Either way, I wonder if it’s something they’ve talked about.  Or if they’ve talked about anything at all. 

I try to tell myself that they don’t need to talk, because they’re just having sex, for fun, and it’s nothing more.  But I can't convince myself.  Because now I know what I know, and it all seems laughably obvious.  They way they look at each other.  The things Elio says.  The way they behave around each other.  This is something that’s been building for the past five weeks, and I’m sure it’s about more than lust.  How much more?  I don’t know. 

I speak to Annella about the situation.

“Do they know you know?”

“No.  Definitely not.  I raised that boy, and he may be an adult now but he’ll never be grown up enough to hide from me.  I’m absolutely certain that he thinks they’re being very secretive.  And my instinct says it would be best if they don’t find out that we know.”

“I agree.  But be that as it may, we have to do something about that headboard.  I can’t face another night like last night.”

So we do.  When the boys have cycled off… somewhere, wherever it is they go, we sneak into the bedroom.  Annella wrinkles her nose and throws open the window.  Mafalda has already made the bed, so we’re spared having to concern ourselves about the state of the sheets, but I still approach the bed with trepidation.

“Come on, Samuel, it’s not going to bite you.  And we have to hurry.  We don’t know how long they’ll be out.  So- do you think we should just pull it away from the wall a little?”

We do, and Annella sits on the bed and bounces around a little to see if it bangs against the wall.  It doesn’t.  “But I think if it was subjected to any… strenuous activity, let’s say- then it might, well, migrate back toward the wall.  Maybe we should put something in between the bed and the wall to muffle the sound?  To stop it from banging?”

I look around the room.  “We could wedge some socks or something behind the headboard, between the bed and the wall?  Or a t-shirt.  We could make it look as though they just fell down there by accident?”

“You’re going to have to go through that pile of laundry, then.  There’s no way I’m touching it.”

I roll my eyes.  “I didn’t say it had to be _dirty_ socks, did I?  There’s a pile of clean clothes over there.  Bring it over here.  We’ll shove some behind the bed,“ I grab a pair of socks and some shorts and put them behind the bed, “and leave the rest here.”  I place the rest of the pile neatly back on the bed, next to the pillow.

We’re whispering.  This would be funny if it wasn’t so… not funny.

I rock the bed as vigorously as I can, to see if the plan has worked.  It seems to be reasonably effective.

Annella clearly sees the absurdity of the whole situation.  “This is ridiculous.  Maybe it wouldn’t matter if they found out that we knew.  Maybe we should just talk to them?  To Oliver, at least.  He’s an adult.”

“No.  You were right before.  I don’t want them to know that we know.  It’s only a week or so.  Let them have their fun.  We can live with it- after all, how bad can it get?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	5. Day 5- a midnight snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends call round looking for Oliver and Elio.

Without the distraction of the banging headboard, other night noises become audible.  The soothing chirp of cicadas.  Cows in the meadow nearby.  The gentle whisper of the wind in the trees.  The bells of the church striking the hour.

The moans of two people having sex.

“Do you think they’re…”  I trail off as I try to think of a delicate way to ask this.  I’m not actually sure quite what it is I want to ask, and I’m fairly sure I don’t actually want to know the answer.

Someone is panting with heavy, shuddery breaths.  The sound echoes down the hall, followed by a whimper.

“Oh, I think they’re doing _everything_.  Not that I’m thinking about it any more than I have to.  And nor should you, unless you want to be driven crazy.”

I am trying not to think about it.  In the abstract, if I _had_ to think about it, I’d say, truthfully, that I have no problem with Elio having a satisfying sex life.  With whoever he chooses.  That, in fact, this is something I’d like him to have.  But I’d very much prefer for those thoughts to remain in the abstract.  Because I never had any urge _whatsoever_ to find out, so unequivocally, that my only child is having sex.  Anal sex.  In a room just a few yards away from where I’m trying to sleep.  And I had even less desire to know, so emphatically, just how much he enjoys it.  But here I am, against my will, finding out nevertheless. 

And while we’re on the subject of things I didn’t want to know?  I also didn’t have any urge to know that my summer intern is such a fan of blasphemy in the bedroom.  Oliver’s voice is deep and it carries, and he likes to take the Lord’s name in vain, loudly and frequently.  Which is fine.  Absolutely fine.  I just didn’t want to know about it.

Once I have heard the things I’m hearing, there’s no way to stop hearing them.  So by morning I’m more tired than ever.

It turns out that living with this situation is more difficult than I thought- and not just for Annella and I.  Because Elio’s friend Chiara calls at the house in the late morning, looking for Oliver. 

“He’s not in right now.  I think he’s gone to see his translator.”

It’s not true, but I can hardly say _I suspect he and Elio have gone to find a secluded spot somewhere, to do whatever it is they do when they’re alone.  And you’d really rather not know what it is they do when they’re alone.  I know I wish I didn’t know._

She looks disappointed.  “I haven’t seen him in over a week.  He doesn’t come out with us anymore.”

“Ah!  Well, that’s really my fault, Chiara.  We’ve been very busy, you see.  There’s been a lot of work to do since we visited Lake Garda.  And I’m afraid there’s still a lot we have to do before Oliver leaves next week.  But I’ll be sure to tell him you dropped by.”

I do indeed tell him, over lunch.  He doesn’t even pretend to be interested, which I can only presume is because he never really was. 

When I mention the incident to Annella she says that she saw Marzia, another friend of Elio’s, talking to him yesterday.  Marzia and Elio had appeared to be very close to one another this summer.  I suppose she’s yet another casualty of this situation with Oliver.  I feel sorry for her, but Elio is smiling today in a way he seldom does, and I somehow can’t find it in me to blame him for his apparent heartlessness. 

***

It’s another sleepless night.  After lying awake for some time, trying to shut out the noises, things have gone quiet and I still can’t sleep.  I’m on edge, wondering whether I can relax and get some rest because they’re finally done for the night, or whether this is just a short respite.  I decide that a glass of water might help.  I tiptoe out of the room and toward the stairs because I don’t want to awaken anyone else in the house and give them another opportunity to enjoy themselves at the expense of my sleep. 

But as I make my way along the corridor, there’s a soft giggle and the snick of a door opening. 

“Shh!   Stay here.  I’ll go.”

I press myself against the wall in the shadows.  There’s a faint smell of marijuana drifting from their open bedroom door.

There’s a whisper.  Oliver.  “At least put some clothes on, Elio!  Oh, and can you bring a snack?  I’m starving.”

And with that, the door opens fully and Elio, wrapped in a bed sheet, flies down the stairs.

With a sigh, I turn around and sneak back to my own room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	6. Day 6- an early night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel and Annella hatch another plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up- I'm going away this weekend. I have sorted the next few days' chapters and they're all ready to post, I just need to click the button. So all being well I will still get them posted- but if I don't then that's why and I'll be back home on Monday. I won't be able to keep up with replying to comments, though- but please please keep them coming! It means so much to see that people are enjoying this silliness!

Now that I know what I know, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.  As the days go on it’s only becoming clearer.  The looks.  The smiles.  A hand brushing a shoulder.  That damned egg thing at breakfast a few days ago.  It could all have been interpreted as a close friendship, but at the same time, it’s so obviously not. 

“We should try to tire them out.  So that they won’t have the energy,” suggests Annella, yawning at the breakfast table.  The boys haven’t come down for breakfast yet, which isn’t surprising given the time they finally went to sleep last night.  This morning, really.

“I think they’re quite capable of tiring each other out.  At least, they seem to do plenty of things to each other which you would expect to tire them out.  It doesn’t seem to work.  What do you suggest?”

“Let’s send them on an errand.  A long bike ride.  Very long.  We could send them to my sister’s to fetch… well, I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter what.  A book.  Or… look, the details don’t matter.  What do you think?”

“It’s worth a try.  And Alessandro was asking about Oliver’s book when he called round the other day- we could have them do a detour via his place, drop off a copy of the latest manuscript.  That would add a few extra miles.”

“Oh yes, that’s brilliant!  You’re a genius!  And they’ll probably get so hot and sweaty from cycling that they’ll stop off for a swim on the way back, which will make them more tired than ever.  We should suggest a swim, in fact.  I’ll get Mafalda to pack some food for them to take.  We’ll tell them to make a day of it.”

Elio whinges like the spoilt teenager he is about being sent to his aunt’s house on an errand- which he points out, quite reasonably, would be much quicker and easier by car.  I tell him that everyone is just too busy today to drive out to Marcella’s place, and I need the book urgently.  It simply cannot wait.

It’s a quiet day, since the boys don’t return until late afternoon.  They look suitably exhausted.  They’re hungry and thirsty and sweaty.  Dishevelled, too- Elio has grass stains on the back of his t-shirt and Oliver’s hair is sticking up in all directions.  It has leaves and twigs and other bits of vegetation stuck in it.  It’s as though they had some sort of minor cycling accident whilst riding through the woods.  I tell myself that this is almost certainly what happened, but somehow I can’t make myself believe it.

That evening we retire to bed much earlier than usual.  I hope that if we can get to sleep before the noise starts, then we might sleep right through it, especially given how exhausted we are. 

This is a mistake, because it turns out that this evening Elio and Oliver are desecrating the orchard.  Thank goodness Anchise goes to bed early and sleeps soundly.  It’s just a shame that our bedroom overlooks the garden.

I’m lying in bed, trying to sleep, enjoying the peace of the night… when voices float upwards.  Words, and sounds.  They must be sitting close to the tree outside our window.  Our window, which is wide open in an attempt to ease the oppressiveness of the night. 

It’s so still, though, without a breath of wind to help.  Stifling.  Far too hot to close the windows, so I try to ignore it and pray that talking is as far as this interaction will go.  Surely if they want to do more, they will go up to their bedroom.

I think perhaps we’re in luck, because the voices fall silent.  But not for long.  I can only presume that they’ve been kissing, because then there’s the sound of heavy breathing, followed by a low growl.  “God, Elio.  I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

There’s an awestruck “Really?” from Elio.  Then another pause for kissing- at least, the quiet but decidedly wet sounds suggest that’s what’s happening.

“Mmm.  Really.”  A gasp.  Then more quiet, except for the rustling of hands on clothing.  Or under it.

And Oliver’s voice again.  “Wait.  We should go to your room.  Isn’t your mom and dad’s bedroom just up there?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay.  They’re not there.  The light’s not on, and it’s still early.  They won’t be going to bed for hours yet.”

 _No, we are!  We are here!  Right here!  So close I just heard you unzipping his fly!_   I’m shouting it in my head, but manage to restrain myself from yelling out loud. 

“Mmmmm.  Oliver.  Oh.  That’s-“ a sharp intake of breath, followed by a groan which turns into a giggle.  “Hey.  Stop it.”

“Yeah?” teases Oliver.  “You want me to stop?” 

“It tickles.”

“So you want me to stop?”

“No,” breathes Elio.  “Don’t stop.  Please.”

What _does_ stop then is the talking.  Other sounds take over, quieter but much more urgent.

Annella rolls over.  I thought she was asleep.  “Well that escalated fast,” she whispers.

“Indeed.  I don’t think we’re going to sleep right now.  Let’s give up for a while.  Go downstairs and watch TV.  And I think we should open another bottle of wine.”

“I think you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	7. Day 7- a shopping trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel pays a visit to the pharmacy.

After another night spent with my head buried under my pillow, I decide that earplugs must surely be the answer. 

“I’m going to go down to the pharmacy later this morning.  Pick up some earplugs.”

“Oh good.  That’s a great idea.  Why didn’t we think of that before?  Get some for me too.  And for Mafalda.”

Mafalda?  Really?  Oh dear.  This is worse than I thought.  Is there anyone who doesn’t know?

“And maybe you should get some condoms?”

“What?  I should?  We don’t-“

Annella looks at me as though she thinks I’m an idiot.  “Not for us!  For… you know.”

“Oliver is a twenty-four year old man.  He’s quite capable of buying condoms if he needs them.  As is Elio, for that matter.  Besides- the time for that is long past.  It’s a bit late to give the safe sex talk now, when that ship has clearly sailed.”

“It has?”

“Well, I don’t know, obviously.  But if they’re using protection, then presumably they’ll continue to do so.  And if not, then there’s probably not much point in starting now.”

“Do you think we should be worried?”

“No, I doubt it.  I think we can trust Oliver not to put Elio at risk.  And, looking on the bright side- regardless of whether they’re practicing safe sex, at least they’re not going to make us grandparents any time soon.”

Annella shakes her head in despair.

***

I go to the pharmacy as planned, shortly after breakfast.  It’s small, with everything crammed into a few tiny aisles.  I step back from the shelf I’m perusing and bump into someone.  Turning around to say _excuse me_ , I see that it’s Oliver.

Of course it is.  Because that’s just my luck.

“Oh.  Oliver.  Hello.  I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He blushes bright red, from his chest (which is largely visible, because he is apparently incapable of doing up most of his buttons) right up to his ears, and he clasps his hands hurriedly behind his back.  “Professor.  Hi.  Yes.  I just needed-“ his eyes flit around the shelves for the closet likely item.  “Toothpaste.”  He picks up a box, keeping one hand behind his back still. 

“Of course, of course.  I’m just looking for the, um, the sunscreen.  We’ve completely run out.”

“Right.  I think it’s over there.”  He gestures vaguely towards the other end of the store. 

Rival thoughts are warring in my head.  _Please, let him be buying condoms.  Please, let him be buying anything but condoms.  Or anything else to do with sex for that matter._ And, loudest of all, _please, let me not find out either way._

I avert my eyes from the temptation of looking to see what was on the shelf he was standing by, and decide to throw him a lifeline.  Glancing toward the sunscreen shelf I say, “Well, it doesn’t look like they have the brand we usually use.  I’ll have to go elsewhere.  I’ll see you at lunch, Oliver?”

“Yes.  Of course.  Later.”

Having failed in my shopping mission, I turn and walk out of the store.

It’s late morning when I leave my study to look for coffee.  In the kitchen I find Mafalda ranting and wringing her hands, with Annella trying to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder.

“I will not change those sheets one more time, madam.  Absolutely not.  I cannot work like this.”

“That’s fine, Mafalda.  I’m sure it isn’t necessary.  How about this?  Until Oliver leaves, everyone will take responsibility for their own sheets and towels.  You will just organise the washing of clothes.”

I add my two cents’ worth.  “That’s a fine idea.  In fact, I’ll go and strip our bed sheets right now.”

“That’s nice, Samuel, but they really don’t need changing right now and-“

I shout back at her as I climb the stairs.  “I’m going to do it anyway, so we can set an example.  Then I’ll go and speak to the boys.  Explain about the new way of doing things.”

In the distance I hear Mafalda complaining that the clothes are not much less unpleasant, and that _those pillows have seen terrible things, I think they will have to be burned, madam_.  Annella is pacifying her with a reminder that _you’ve dealt admirably with the consequences of having a teenage boy in the house for years now, this is just more of the same, and do you think you can please put up with it for one more week?  Just the clothes, mind you.  We’ll talk to them about the sheets._

I talk to Elio.  And Oliver, too, because there’s no finding one without the other these days.  I explain that Mafalda is feeling overworked, most likely a result of the heatwave we’ve been suffering recently.  That they will need to make their own beds, change their own sheets, take their own towels to the washing machine.  They nod.  Clearly their thoughts are elsewhere, disinterested in such tedious domestic matters. 

I ply both of them with wine at dinner, in the hope that it might make them sleepy. 

This is my biggest mistake yet, because it doesn’t.  On the contrary- it just makes them hornier than ever.

Elio can’t stop looking at Oliver.  He’s blatantly undressing him with his eyes.  And I think there’s something going on under the table.  With feet, or hands, or maybe both.  Elio casts furtive looks toward the floor, and Oliver just sits there with a glazed expression on his face.

We should implement a new household rule.  _No foreplay at the table_.  Maybe I should get a sign made up and hang it on the wall by Elio’s chair.  A large sign with bold, red text.  

I wish I had persevered with my earplug purchasing mission.  After being forced to overhear a particularly enthusiastic round of sex, I am in despair yet quietly hopeful.  “Surely they’re going to have to sleep after that?  It was most impressive.  At the end it sounded like someone was strangling a cat.”

Annella is sceptical.  “I’ll believe they’re sleeping when I see it.  Or rather- I’ll believe it when I don’t hear it.  Does that make sense?”

“Not really, but that’s to be expected given our perpetual state of exhaustion.  And I know what you’re saying.” 

But no.  The universe is not going to be that kind to us.  They’re not sleepy at all. 

“Good lord, here we go again.  Samuel?  Maybe we will have to talk to them after all.”

“You mean that maybe _I_ will have to talk to them after all, don’t you?”

“Well, Oliver is your intern.  It would hardly be appropriate for me to talk to him about it.”

“But you’re Elio’s mother.”

“Exactly.  You’re quite right.  I am.  And this is a conversation for a father and son, don’t you think?”

I sigh, knowing that I’m beaten.  “Fine.  I’ll talk to them tomorrow.  Both of them.  Or maybe just one of them.  Let me think about it.”

And so we settle in to spend another night finding out far more about our son’s sexual awakening than we ever wanted to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	8. Day 8- a mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anchise doesn't know.

We decide to have a lie in.  If we can’t get any sleep at night, we’ll have to get it in the morning instead.

But alas.  It’s not to be.  I roll over and groan.  “In the morning, too?  Is nothing sacred anymore?  How many orgasms does one person need to have?  Is there no stopping them?”

A sigh from Annella.  “Well, we’re awake now.  We might as well go get some breakfast.”

We’re sitting at the table reading the newspapers when Elio appears half an hour later.  His hair is wet from the shower, and he’s wearing just his underwear and a t-shirt which has seen better days. 

He’s pink and flushed, his movements languid, as though there’s nothing but liquid left under his skin.  If the expression _well-ravished_ was in the dictionary, it would have a picture of Elio next to it. 

Oliver looks much more put-together when he arrives ten minutes later.  The smile Elio gives him can best be described as dopey.  Oliver smiles back, and it’s radiant. 

I hadn’t realised until now just how _happy_ they are.  Elio is not a naturally cheerful boy- he’s contemplative, sometimes sullen, far too prone to introspection to be happy much of the time. 

But now?  There’s a simple happiness on his face.  Light, easy.  If I saw this version of Elio more often, I would worry about him so much less.

I’m overcome with an urge to protect whatever it is they have together, for as long as it lasts.  And that means that they must not find out that we know.

I explain this to Annella when the boys have gone for a swim. 

She nods and sighs.  “I know.  You’re right.  And we’ve put up with it for a week.  We can put up with it for a few more nights.”

In the kitchen, Anchise and Mafalda are arguing in rapid-fire Italian.  This is unusual, because they normally get along very well, but tempers are frayed right now from lack of sleep.  Because it turns out that Anchise, who I thought could sleep through an earthquake, is sharing in our affliction too.

“It’s a ghost, I tell you.  A ghost.  I’ve heard banging and moaning, in the house.  And even noises in the garden.  It can only be a ghost.  I will not work in a house which is haunted.  I’m-“

“You are a foolish old man.  There is no ghost.  It’s just the wind.  You’ve worked here for over twenty years.  Never before has there been a ghost.  Why would a ghost come and haunt us now?”

“This is how I know it’s a ghost!  _Because_ I have worked here for twenty years and I know what sounds the wind makes around the house.  This is not like that.  It is most certainly a ghost.  Probably a poltergeist.”

“It is no ghost, I tell you.  You’ve been drinking too much grappa.  Go to bed sober for once and you’ll hear no more ghosts!” 

Mafalda is brandishing a rolling pin in what can only be described as a threatening manner, so I decide it’s time to step in.

“Now, now.  Let’s all calm down.  Anchise-  what’s all this talk of ghosts?”

“There a ghost, sir.  I’m sorry to tell you.”

“No need to apologise, Anchise.  I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.  I will monitor the situation myself, and if the noises do not stop within a few days, then we’ll-“

“Aha!  You’ve heard it too!” he exclaims, looking at Mafalda smugly.  “I knew that a woman could not be trusted to understand a matter such as this.  I will speak to Father Luca after Mass on Sunday, and see if he can conduct an exorcism-“

This is fast getting out of hand.  I place a hand on his shoulder and steer him towards the door.  “Thank you, Anchise.  I’m sure that won’t be necessary.  And if there is a ghost, it would most likely be a Jewish ghost, and thus not receptive to a Catholic exorcism.  Perhaps you’d like to take a few days off?  Get some rest.”

“Now you’re saying I’m crazy?  Is that what you’re saying?  I don’t need to rest.  I know what I heard.  And I saw it.  The other night when I was coming home late from the _osteria_ , I saw a white, floating shape through the kitchen window.  I cannot work with a ghost around the house, sir.”

“No, no.  You’re quite right.  And I will concede that there is certainly a noise.  I have heard it myself.”

“Aha!  A ghostly noise.”

“Well, some might interpret it as such, I don’t doubt.  Leave it to me to deal with, and if you’d like, I’d be happy for you to take some time off until I have sorted it out.”  Anchise looks as though he’s about to protest, so I hurriedly continue.  “Please try not to worry about it.  I don’t think you’re crazy.  I just think that this- this noise in the night might mean you- all of us- need some rest.  That’s all I’m saying.”

Anchise looks as though he’s willing to tolerate this, albeit reluctantly. 

I pray that he never finds out what Elio and Oliver have been doing among his precious fruit trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	9. Day 9- a solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Perlmans decide to take desperate measures.

My staff are close to rioting.  First Mafalda, then Anchise, and today?  Mafalda again.  This morning we find her in the kitchen, sobbing into her apron.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry,” she sniffles.  “It’s just that I haven’t slept in days.  This is worse than it was when Elio was a baby.”

I don’t think it’s wise to argue, but for what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s true.  Elio was a tiny, squalling, inconsolable nightmare of a baby.  There may be talk of ghosts now, but when he was an infant it was as though he was possessed by a demon.  I swear no-one slept for months.

Annella soothes her.  “There, there, Mafalda.  I know.  This will all be done in a few more days.  Maybe you’d like to go and stay with your brother until Oliver leaves?”

“No, madam.  I cannot.  My brother’s wife doesn’t like me.  Besides- I need to be here in plenty of time for breakfast each morning.  I will have to stay and make the best of it.  As you said- it’s only a few more days.”

Annella corners me in my study a little later.  “Samuel.  This situation has become intolerable.  If we can’t speak to them about it, if we can’t let them find out that we know about them, then we will have to send them away.  There’s no other choice.”

“Send them away?  But- Oliver is leaving in a few days anyway.”

“Can you cope with a few more nights like this?  We could send them both away until them.  For a little holiday.  Although you couldn’t tell them it was a holiday.  We’ll have to think of a better reason than that.”

“I suppose we could send them to stay in Bergamo for a couple of nights.  Say that there are some documents at the university which Oliver should see for his research before he leaves. I have a colleague who could help.”

“You can’t send them to stay with a colleague!”

“Oh, god, no.  I’ll book them a hotel.  I just meant that he’ll be able to help with the research.”

Elio and Oliver are quite amenable to the idea.  Oliver offers to arrange accommodation and so on, but I insist on doing it for them.  I’m happy to pay, and we need to send them to a hotel with thick walls and discreet staff.  Luckily I have stayed in Bergamo enough times to know of a place which might be suitable.

That night we go to bed apprehensive, but relieved that tonight will be the last night of disturbed sleep.  For one more night we can surely just live with the situation and ignore it as best we can.

Tonight is difficult, though.  The night is still and sticky, and all of the windows are thrown wide open.  And the sounds which carry through the night air are quieter but all the more intimate for that.  Tonight, much more so than the other nights, I feel guilty.  This isn’t just the sounds of two people enjoying each other’s bodies.  It feels uncomfortably as though we are intruding on something so much more deeply private. 

They’re quiet enough that I probably wouldn’t normally have noticed.  But, sadly, we have become so attuned to these night time events that we can’t help but hear things which we wouldn’t usually have heard at all.  We daren’t try to leave the room and go elsewhere for fear of being heard, or disturbing them in their quiet closeness.  It would be cruel, now, for them to hear us moving around the house and thus to know that we must have heard them. 

So we try to sleep, but find ourselves hearing things unavoidably.  For some time there’s just talking.  Their voices are a soft murmur, the words too low to be distinguishable.  Soothing.  The sound is close to lulling me to sleep when it becomes something else- heavy breathing, quiet laughter, gasps and soft words of adoration.  I don’t have to see it to hear the smile on Elio’s face. 

I’m happy that they have this.  That they have found each other.

And I’m happy that tomorrow night I’ll be able to finally get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	10. Day 10- Peace at last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Perlmans finally get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooooo much for all of your lovely comments. I will probably get around to replying on Wednesday when I'm not at work.  
> Not a lot of fun in this chapter I'm afraid, but tomorrow is more lighthearted again!  
> Oh- and I realised I have counted wrong and there are actually 13 chapters instead of 12, so that's 3 more left!

Saying goodbye to Oliver is hard.  He’s been a good student and he’s a good person.  He’s lived as part of our family for six weeks, and my affection for him is only intensified by what I know he and Elio have shared.

I’m pretty sure that, despite my invitation and his heartfelt assurances, he won’t be back to visit any time soon.  Life is just too complicated.  Regardless of what he may or may not have going on back home, he can’t return, as past students often have, for a quick visit at Christmas time.  It would mean too much or- worse- too little.  It could only cause more hurt.

I have no idea what him and Elio have said to each other.  What they’ve discussed about the future, if anything.  Have promises been made?  To write, to meet, to wait?

He hasn’t approached me to talk about it, and it’s not my place to ask, but I don’t think that those are promises which Oliver will be able to keep.  So I hope that they haven’t been made at all.  That this can be a clean break.  A quick, sharp cut which will heal without too much scarring, instead of something jagged and festering which invites you to constantly pick at it and make it worse.

Perhaps there is a way forward for him and Elio, but it would be a difficult one and perhaps one which Oliver, at least, does not want to explore.  I suspect that this, _now_ , is how things end for them, and that saddens me more than I feel it should.

Does it sound terrible to say that I hope that Elio will be over him by Christmas?  That it will be for the best if Oliver doesn’t visit then and open up the wounds which will, by then, just be healing over?

Not that I think there’s much chance that Elio will be over him in just four months.  But perhaps, by then, things will be better.  Because I have no doubt that difficult times lie ahead.

So.  Oliver is leaving.  And, for now, Elio goes with him.  Hugs are exchanged, and then they’re gone.

They look so happy it hurts.  I feel an almost physical shock of pain at the thought of what they are about to lose.

The only thing which lightens the moment is the appearance of Chiara.  Upset that Oliver hasn’t said goodbye but, really, what did she expect?  How oblivious can a person be?  _Very,_ I tell myself.  _I was, until I knew.  And then it all seemed so obvious._

I reach for Annella and put an arm around her.  She pats my back comfortingly.  “We’re going to miss him.”

“I know.”

We’re going to miss Oliver.  And I suspect that, for while at least, we’ll miss the Elio we were getting to know when Oliver was around.  I hope he’ll be back before too long.

***

My head aches with tiredness and too much heat and worry about how Elio will cope when he comes back here and Oliver is gone.  Haunted, no doubt- not by Anchise’s imagined ghost, but by a far more powerful one.  The ghost of Oliver as he was, and the places where the two of them were.  I wonder if he will envy Oliver, who will be burdened by no such associations back home in New York.

What do the coming days hold for Elio?  My shy, sensitive son, who has fallen in love for the first time in front of our very eyes.  Who doesn’t say what he feels, but shows it on his face, more transparent than he could ever know, for all to see.  Elio, who goes back to school in two weeks.  He’ll be immersed in his studies, piano lessons, college applications, catching up with friends… adjusting to life back in the city is always difficult, but this year is bound to be even more so.

I worry about that.  And about my work, because, as usual, I meant to do far more over the summer than I actually have.  Research, planning, reading… it’s all been left far too late.  There are always too many, much more enjoyable pastimes over the summer.  I don't regret neglecting my work, not really, but I do wish more of it was done.

Hopefully things will look better after a good night’s rest.

Elio calls to tell us that they’ve arrived safely in Bergamo.  I can hear his happiness, giddy and light.  His radiant smile, one we see all too seldom.  I can hear Oliver in the background, snorting with laughter.

We retire early, looking forward to the prospect of an uninterrupted night’s rest.

Before we go up to bed, there’s one last thing to be said.  “Mafalda?  Don’t worry about making breakfast tomorrow.  I think we could all do with a lie in.”  She nods gratefully.

Peace at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	11. Day 11- a cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Elio and Oliver are in Bergamo the Perlmans deal with some of the messy consequences of their affair.

I stretch and yawn.  The morning light filters yellow through the shutters, and I feel Annella stirring beside me.  “What time is it?” she asks.

I glance at the clock.  “Just gone ten.”

“Well, this is wonderful.  I missed sleep so much.”

“I know.  It’s so peaceful.  I could stay here all day, but… I need coffee.”

“I’ll go make some while you take a shower.  And if Mafalda’s around, I’ll ask her to prepare a light breakfast.”

The house has never felt more peaceful than it does this morning.  We sit out in the sunshine and enjoy coffee, cigarettes and the newspapers.  We have nothing to do and no-one to see.  Bliss.

Until Mafalda comes out to speak to Annella.

“Madam… I’ve been to the attic.  I was looking for a lamp- there are some stored in there, and the one in Elio’s room has been damaged.  I don’t know how it happened.”  Her silence has a tone all of its own, and it tells us that she has a pretty good idea of how it happened.

She continues, her face pinched in disapproval.  “I’m afraid it is… not good.”

“Not good… how?”

“It’s very sticky up there.”

“Oh?”

“There are… for one thing, Elio has been eating fruit up there and not tidying up after himself.  There are flies and ants.”

“Oh.  That’s unfortunate.”

“And worse than that.  It is… I hate to say it, but there is no delicate way.”  She lowers her voice to just more than a whisper, and looks around before continuing, as though to check that no-one else is listening.  Though who else could be listening?  Anchise’s fantasy ghost, maybe. 

“It is a den of depravity, madam.  I refuse to clean it up.  Twenty years I have worked for you, but you can dismiss me if you wish.  I simply will not do it.”

Annella is quick to appease her.  “Mafalda.  Please.  There’s no need for drama.  I have no intention of dismissing you.  You’re perfectly free to say you don’t want to do something.  And in this case, I would not wish you to take it upon yourself.  I will see it taken care of.”

“If you ask me, the young man should do it when he returns.”

“Yes, probably.  But I’ll see to it all the same.”

Mafalda retreats back in to the kitchen with a curt nod.

Annella sighs and puts the newspaper down onto the table.  “Come on, Samuel.  Let’s go find some rubber gloves and hot soapy water.”

It isn’t pleasant, but nor is it as bad as Mafalda made it sound.  The stale, dusty smell is little different to usual, and is soon aired out by opening a window.  The insects will doubtless disappear once their food source- a collection of sticky peach pits- is removed.  Annella throws them into a bag, along with several handfuls of tissues and a bottle of something which she picks up daintily between her thumb and rubber-gloved forefinger, dropping it in without looking too carefully.  And thankfully we don’t have to look at the bed sheets too closely- they’re easily bundled up for washing.

Why Elio has decided to turn the attic into a strange little hideout is a mystery.  There are certainly more comfortable places for a tryst.

Whatever his motivations, it’s cleared up now.  Annella is businesslike about the whole thing.  I busy myself straightening up a pile of books which has been left behind, until she declares the job finished.  “Right.  I think we’re all done here.  Let’s go downstairs- I think a stiff drink is in order.”

Dinner feels almost eerily quiet.  I may not have missed the noises in the night, but I miss the conversation and company at the table.  But now it’s just the two of us- and while that’s nice in a way, it’s also strange.

“So.  Elio comes back tomorrow.”  When dinner is over, Annella lights a cigarette for herself and one for me.

“Mmm.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Tomorrow?  Quite possibly not.  But in time he’s going to have to be, one way or another.  It’s not something we can do much to help with.  And he would have gotten his heart broken by someone sooner or later.  It’s just strange to have been right here while the whole thing happened.”

Annella holds up the wine bottle.  I nod and she shares the last of it between our glasses.  “Maybe it won’t be over.  Maybe they’ll try to have some sort of long-distance thing.”

She’s echoing the thoughts which have been plaguing me since the boys left yesterday.  “Maybe.  But I’m not sure it would be a good idea.  I think a clean break might be the kindest thing for everyone.”

When we go to bed, I should be able to sleep.  It’s peaceful.  The night is cooler and much more pleasant.  Tomorrow my son comes home, and I’ll be able to see him and ask him about his trip.

But sleep just won’t come.  My mind is restless.  I’m not worried about Elio, as such.  Because like I said to Annella, heartbreak is just a part of life, and people get over it.  They move on, and so will he in time.  So, no, I’m not worried about him too much.  I’m worried about myself, because of how much it’s going to hurt to see him sad, heartbroken, and not be able to do anything about it.  This is not something I will be able to make better with hugs or tickles or silly stories, like I did when he was a little boy who fell and scraped his knees and palms on the rocks by the seashore.  This is the first time I will have to see Elio suffer and not be able to make his pain go away, and it terrifies me.

So I lie awake and wait for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	12. Day 10- a homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio returns from his trip to Bergamo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the hasty editing and proofing of this one!  
> I was going to catch up on comments today but things ended up being busy- but I will do it soon! Thank you all so much!

All those sleepless nights.  But none were as difficult as tonight.  I lie in bed, unable to sleep once more, listening to my son sobbing.

I knew that this would happen, or something like it at least.  And in a way I’m pleased because, like I said to him earlier, it’s not good to bottle things up.

When Annella returned from picking him up at the station he headed upstairs without saying a word, and she drew me aside.  “He’s cried the whole way home.  On and off.  I didn’t know what to say to him.”

Nor did I, but when he hadn’t come downstairs after half an hour I went up to his room.  There was no answer when I knocked gently on the door, so I went in quietly and found him asleep in his underwear and an old t-shirt, curled on his side with his arms wrapped around Oliver’s blue shirt.

He was clearly fast asleep, his breathing deep and slow.  The day was turning cloudy and cool, promising rain, so I pulled a blanket up over him and left him to rest.  He hasn’t any more sleep these past few nights than the rest of us, and must be exhausted- both physically and emotionally.

“He’s fast asleep,” I told Annella when I found her in the garden.  “I’ll talk to him when he wakes up.”

“Do you think he’s going into withdrawal?  You know, there must be some sort of chemical comedown after that week-long, sex induced endorphin high he’s just had.”

I sigh.  “Well, he’s going to miss having Oliver in his bed.  And not just for the sex.  That bed is going to feel awfully cold and empty.”

I wish I’d been wrong about it, but the crying down the hall suggests not.

I've already had a talk with him earlier this evening, but I can’t leave him like this.  So I pad along the hall to his room, and quietly go in and sit next to him on the edge of the bed.  It’s as though Oliver had never been there.  Bedroom arranged back to how it was, fresh sheets, Elio’s things moved back into the closet.  Oh, Mafalda.  I wish she’d left it, just for a while.  Though perhaps this way is best.

 **“** Oh, Elio.  It’s alright.  It’ll be alright.”

Elio gives a tremendous sniffle.  He stays where he is, lying on the bed and facing toward the window, away from me.  “Dad.”

“I don’t want to intrude, but you left your door ajar and I heard you as I was walking past.”  A lie, of course.  But it’s best if he doesn’t find out just how easily the sound carries in this old house.  Not now, at least.  “I didn’t want to leave you upset like this.  But I’ll go if you want me to.”

“No.  It’s okay.”

I take this as permission to touch, and stroke his arm and shoulder.  Eventually he speaks, in little more than a whisper.

“I loved him, dad.”

“I know.  He knew it, too.”

Elio rolls over to face me.  He looks confused.  “Did he tell you?”

“He didn’t have to say it.  It was obvious.  Of course he knew.  You know he loved you too?”

Elio bites his lip and stares past me, eyes red and teary.  “He never said so.”

“Does that matter?  Nor did you say it to him, I’m guessing.  Not everything needs to be said with words.  But you know he did, right?”

His smile is wobbly, but it’s a smile nonetheless.  “Yeah.  I know.”  He takes a shaky breath.  “But I wish we’d said it.”

“We all do things we regret, but it’s often the things we _don’t_ do that hurt the most.  But this is just a small regret, Elio.  It doesn’t make a difference to how you felt.  How you feel.”

“I know.”  Elio is crying again.  More quietly this time, but it’s still a miserable sound.

I sit by him and wait, trusting him to ask me to leave if he wants me to.  But eventually he’s calm, and there’s one more thing I need to say. 

“There will come a time when you doubt your memories of this.  When you question whether you really felt that way, whether he really felt that way, whether any of it mattered as much as it seemed to at the time.  Whether any of it was real, or whether most of the things you thought you felt were little more than imagination.  So listen to me when I tell you now- when you start to have those doubts, I want you to remember me telling you that _it was real_.  I saw you and I saw Oliver and I know it was real.  Never forget that.”

He doesn’t look like he really understands yet, but he nods, and I hope that he’ll remember this conversation when it really matters. 

“So.  You hungry?  You haven’t eaten anything since you got home.”  He shakes his head.  “Thirsty?”

He nods, and when he speaks, it’s croaky.  “Yeah.  A bit.”

“You stay right here.  I’ll get you some water.  You sure you don’t want anything to eat?  We can go find some leftovers.”  Elio shakes his head again.  “Well.  You’re going to be hungry in the morning.  I could make us pancakes?”  I make great pancakes- which is a good thing, since it’s the only thing I can cook.

This time Elio nods.  I squeeze his shoulder.  “Okay, then.  It’s settled.  Now you wait right here and I’ll go get you some water.”

“Thanks, dad.”  He smiles again, and I never knew that a smile could make me feel so sad.

When I return with the water he’s already asleep.  His breathing is still uneven and wet from crying.  But he looks peaceful nonetheless.  There may be pain, but it’s a pain about something good.

I know he’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is sad. But the final chapter tomorrow (more of an epilogue really) jumps into the future and is back to being lighthearted again!  
> As you may have noticed, it went from 12 chapters to 13 and as a result the last chapter has changed around quite substantially and isn't finished. I still hope to post it tomorrow but not promising anything!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	13. Day 9131- a conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Italy, summer 2008.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer final chapter than I planned. Here you go!  
> I am so sad that this is over. It has been silly and fun and (mostly) joyous and I'm glad that a lot of people have enjoyed it. Thank you so much for all your support and lovely comments and everything. This is the sort of thing I always expect to write, because my head is full of crazy nonsense- but then it never happens and I end up doing serious stuff instead. 
> 
> People who are reading These Parallel Lives- I know, I know, it's been weeks and weeks and weeks. I've done a little bit of work on it but things are still all messed up at home which makes it almost impossible to find the time. I am working on it though, promise!

Italy doesn’t disappoint.  My husband and his younger brother have been spending summers here for several years now, but I’ve never been able to join them before.  “You have to come this year,” he said.  “Next year we’ll have the baby, and it won’t be as easy to travel.”  So here we are.  It’s warm and green and beautiful, but it’s also a ten-hour flight from home and right now I just want to sleep.

I can’t, however, because my husband and his brother are arguing about who’s going to sleep where.  “You should have the big room,” insists Dan.  “There are two of you- well, two and a half if you count the baby.  It makes no sense for me to sleep in there all alone.”

“Why are you arguing over this?” I ask, exasperated and short-tempered with exhaustion.  An airplane is not a comfortable place for a pregnant woman to sleep.  “If Dan is happy for us to have the bigger room, then that’s great.  Show me where it is and we’ll go unpack.”

Daniel looks triumphant, and my husband shoots him a filthy look.

He leads me upstairs and drops the suitcase on the bed with a sigh.  “God.  Dan is such a smug little shit.  We shouldn’t have let him have his way.”

“Wha- I thought-  wasn’t he just being nice?“

“No.  He wasn’t being nice.  He just didn’t want to sleep in here.”

“Why not?  It’s a nice room.  It’s not haunted or something, is it?”  I smile at him in an attempt to lighten his suddenly dark mood.

Christopher sits down next to me on the bed, heavily.  “No.  Of course not.  It’s just… look.  I have to tell you something.  About my dad and Elio.”

“Oh, god.  What?  Is one of them sick or…”

“No!  No, nothing like that.  I… I don’t know how to explain this.  Okay.  So, tell me one thing that’s worse than hearing your parents having sex.”

This is an unexpected turn to the conversation.

“War?  World hunger?  AIDS?  Ooh, wait, I know- _seeing_ them having sex!  That would be way worse.  But your parents haven’t been together for years, anyway, so-“

He interrupts.  “No!  The one thing that’s worse than hearing your parents having sex is hearing them having sex _with other people_.”

“Like… a threesome?  Wow.  Your parents were kinkier than they look.”

“No!  With other people who are not each other!  Like dad and Elio.”

“Oh!  Well, why didn’t you just say so?  It’s a bit awkward, sure, and I get that you don’t want to hear it, but it’s not like you didn’t already know that they have sex.  That’s a thing that people tend to like to do with their partners.  And if they weren’t together then your dad would be having sex with other people anyway.  I mean- he’s a silver fox, people would be lining up to get a hot guy like him into bed.”  Christopher looks put out, so I shrug my shoulders.  “I’m sorry to have to say it, but I don’t make the rules.”

“Oh, stop it.  That’s enough talk of my dad’s sex life.”

“You started it.”

“Well.  I was trying to explain, before you started saying my dad was hot, which by the way is gross- that we don’t want to sleep in this room because my dad and Elio have really, _really_ loud sex, and this room is closest to theirs.”

“Well, you could have just said that to start with.  Saved us from having this whole weird conversation.”

I would have found out soon enough anyway, because I go to bed early but am woken, disoriented, in the deep dark of the middle of the night.  By the sounds of my father-in-law and his partner having very enthusiastic sex.  How can they not know how noisy they are?  Surely they must notice their headboard banging against the wall, if nothing else?

I roll over, trying to get comfortable.  “I see what you mean”

“I told you.  They do this all the time.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“No.  Every year we say we will but we chicken out.”

“Maybe this’ll be the year.  I can’t stand two weeks of this.  Do they do it every night?”

“Yup.  Without fail.  Sometimes more than once, which is pretty impressive given their age.  Sometimes in the morning, too.  My dad’s got stamina, I’ll give him that.”

“You’re going to have to say something.”

The following morning we sneak into their bedroom.  “We can at least stop the headboard banging.”  It turns out that someone has, at some distant point in the past, already tried- because between the bed and the wall is an ancient pair of socks and a scrunched-up t-shirt. 

“Oh.  We’re not the first people to have this idea.  I think these were wedged in there, but have fallen out of place.  If we just-“  I don’t want to dislodge the sizeable pile of fluff and dust- “sort of pull this carefully back here… there.  I think that should do it.”

It helps, a little.  The banging is muffled, but the moans and, well, let’s just say _other noises-_ are still embarrassingly loud.

My husband and his brother try to put off talking to their father, but on the fourth day I can stand it no longer and issue an ultimatum.  “I am a pregnant woman.  It is hot here and I am tired and I need to rest.  I do not want to be kept awake every night by the sound of your father having sex.  Either you speak to him, or I’m going to get the next flight back home.”

“C’mon, it’s just a few more days, surely you can…”   He falters when he sees me glare at him with my most annoyed expression.  “Fine.  Okay.  We’ll talk to him today.  On the condition that it’s a joint effort.  I’m not doing it on my own.”

And that’s how we find ourselves sitting at the kitchen table.  Me and Christopher, his brother, and their father.

“Dad.  There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.   Dan wanted to say something.”

“No I didn’t!  Christopher wanted to say something!  This has nothing to do with me!”

Oliver looks at them sternly.  “Boys.  Stop arguing.  What did you want to say?”

I nudge Christopher with an elbow.  “Look.  Dad.  We know you’re old, but-“

“Wait, what?  I’m not quite fifty!  That’s not old.”

This is not a good start to the conversation.

“Okay, well, that doesn’t matter anyway.  What I’m trying to say is that, um… regardless of that, you and Elio obviously have a very, er, close relationship, and we, um… we really like him, you know that.  You’re so happy with him, and… but…”

No wonder this situation has continued for so long, if this is my husband’s idea of dealing with it.  It’s time someone took control, and it looks like it’s going to have to be me.

“Oliver.  What he’s trying to say is that you and Elio clearly enjoy a very active and healthy sex life.  We know because we’ve heard you.  You’re very loud.”

Oliver looks equal parts surprised and mortified.  Dan takes up the conversation.  “Don’t worry, not you, dad, not really.  Elio, mostly, is really loud, actually.”

I don’t know why we’re trying to spare Oliver’s blushes now.  Things have gone too far for that.    “I’m sorry, but that’s not true.  It’s both of you.  We just wanted to ask you to try to keep the noise down.  That’s all.”

The silence that follows is the most awkward of all the awkward silences ever known to mankind.  Oliver is blushing bright red and refusing to make eye contact with any of us.

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  I’ll talk to Elio and make sure it doesn’t happen again.  I’m sorry we’ve disturbed you.”

Dan finally has something sensible to contribute to the conversation.  “Dad.  This has disturbed us in every sense of the word.  I think I’m scarred for life.”

“Sorry, sorry.  I’ll talk to him.  We’ll be sure to keep it down.”

I can only presume that he has been true to his word, because that evening I’m getting a glass of water from the kitchen when I overhear Elio talking to his mother. 

“Mom.  I have a question.  It’s kind of… weird.”

“Go on, ask me.  You can talk to me about anything.”

“Right.  Well, you remember when Oliver stayed with us as dad’s summer intern?”

“Of course.”

“Um.  Did you have any idea that he and I were, sort of… together?”

“Oh, no, chérie.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  I had no idea.  When the two of you became a couple no-one was more shocked than I.  Shocked in a good way, of course.  You know how I adore Oliver, and the two of you are so happy together.  Why do you ask?”

“Well, Oliver’s boys have just… they’ve said that they can hear us… talking.  From their bedroom.  I didn’t know the noise carried so well in this house, and I just wondered...”

“Well, I don’t know what they mean.  Perhaps they just have exceptionally keen hearing.  We never knew a thing.”

“Okay.  Good.  That’s good.  Well.  I’m going to head up to bed soon.  Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, no, darling.  I’m fine.  Sleep well.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

Annella turns her head and sees me standing by the door.  Before I tiptoe away, she smiles at me and winks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 


End file.
